Archive for July, 2005

Mac meets his match

Sunday, July 31st, 2005

So, Mac came up with a publicity stunt. He got a banner made with the words “Fleet Week, The Musical” on it.

Here, I’ll show you the picture…

Okay, so, there were two days of this. The second day, Mac handed out postcards to the fellas on Christoper Street. This was him with one guy in a red swimsuit.

Here’s him with with another fella. Also, this other fella wore a red swimsuit.

Notice Mac’s black socks.

So, anywhoodle, yesterday, Mac took the boat out and screamed “Fleet Week is here to takeover New York!” and stuff like that. He made an ass of himself. Because he wants to. He wants to make an ass out of himself. And then he was all, “if I make an ass out of myself, can I sell some tickets to Fleet Week?” and we were like, “um… what?” and he said, “never mind. It’ll be cool.” Then, he bought himself a hat and went on the prowl.

So, he’s on this boat, right. Oh, didn’t you see the boat?

That’s right. Over there, sailors.

Jesus Christ.

Anyway, Mac was leaving the dock on his boat and he was calling out to the crowd at Christopher Street pier and he hollered “Okay, ladies and fellas, we’ll see you at Fleet Week The Musical!” and then turned around and promptly ran out of gas. He sorta spun around in the water for forty five minutes until he was rescued.

He was rescued. By the COAST GUARD!

Yes. The Coast Guard.

My Pits Don’t Stink

Wednesday, July 27th, 2005

We were at a rehearsal the other day looking over the plans we had comissioned for the set, for the show we wrote and are now producing that is going up at the Lucille Lortel theater, just the three of us, me, Mac and Jordana and I asked why Jordana was standing so funny. She had her shoulders hiked up and her arms crossed in front of her.

Jordana: “My pitters stink.”

Mac (surprised): “Mine do too!”

Jordana: “It’s horrible, I have to stand like this.

I crossed over to them with my right arm up over my head.

Me: “Smell this.”

Jordana (smelling my armpit): “Your pits smell fine.”

Mac (with almost no hesitation, smelling my armpit): “Yeah, that’s just deodorant smell.” (pause) “Actually, it’s quite nice.”

Then I leaned in to look at the plans. I smelled pitters.

Me: “Yeah, y’all’s pitters smell.”

I walked away.

The plans are *gorgeous* by the way.


Wednesday, July 20th, 2005

Casting a show is, as I said in a private email some time ago, like casting a fishing pole. You just whip that baby as far out as you can, hope it’s got something on the end that a really big fish might find tasty, and then once you reel them in, you gut ’em and eat ’em and throw away whatever’s left.

We’re casting Fleet Week, and we’ve had an embarrasment of riches. For every single role, when we’ve decided on an actor, I sit and look at the people we’re *not* offering roles to, and I can’t believe it. I can’t believe the quality of the people we’ve turned down, some of them purely because they didn’t fit right with the rest of the cast.

And it’s just amazing to be on this side of the table. I’m not sure what my reputation is among the people I’ve worked with, it’s entirely possible that I’ve come across as difficult or self-absorbed. Mostly, I want everyone to work as fast as I do, and I hate wasting time in rehearsal waiting for other actors or, even worse, the director to figure out what the best course of action is. But I can tell you, when I go in for an audition, I’m always surprised when I don’t get cast.

But, JESUS CHRIST. We didn’t cast people in this show that have twice the talent I do. I’m amazed I ever get work when I compare myself to the sleek professional auditioners these guys are. I definitely learned something from being on this side, that every single person in that room is hoping beyond hope that you will be the right person, they are all praying that you are gonna walk in and be the guy they are looking for.

For every single role, we have had two options. And when the director decided what the first option was, the roles were offered and accepted. And I sit and think, if the entire cast was the *second* option, the show would still be better than my wildest imagination. In fact, in many instances, I think the show would be almost better. But that’s why you have a director, so they can create the show based on what you wrote.

Our ideas for our next musical are already starting to percolate. A musical based on Lucretia Jones. A musical based on a group of desperate crappy actors trying to musicalize Atlas Shrugged. A musical based on professional wrestling… Once we get this script done and the rehearsals go into full swing, it will be a relief to back off just a little bit and, y’know, go back to rebuilding my house and re-introduce myself to my friends.

Thursday, July 14th, 2005

Go check it out.


It’s very pretty.

Take it to the BANK

Monday, July 11th, 2005

It is important to me that you understand that following without *any* possible misunderstanding or misinterpretation. There are things in my life that I will assign a certain amount of ambiguity to, there are things in my life that I’m willing to go either way about at the onset, and still other things that I feel fairly certain about but you might be able to change my mind given enough time. The following is not one of these things, the following is absolute.

If you become a zombie, and I have the opportunity, I will kill you.

It seems to me that the only strength zombies have is when someone you recognize becomes a zombie. You see a zombie coming towards you and you shoot it in the head and then the one behind comes towards you and… wait, is it? It’s your girlfriend, the girl you always loved… and bam, you’re eaten.

Not me. I will fucking kill you. I know that there are people I don’t know who read this blog. To you I say, of course I’m gonna kill you. If I don’t know you and you’re *not* a zombie, but, y’know, there’s an alien invasion or something and you’re in my way of getting food and water, then I’ll probably kill you. I don’t care if your a nun, I’ll throw you off the lifeboat to make room for my wife or something.

Now, the people I know and love, I’m not gonna kill you. For any reason. Unless you become a zombie.

There is an important thing for you to understand about all this. If there are zombies, right, there are zombies everywhere, and you think it might be funny to walk slowly towards me saying some shit like, “braaiiinnnsss” or whatever, but you *aren’t* a zombie, I’m not gonna wait and find out if you’re fucking with me. I’m gonna kill you. So don’t make that joke. As a matter of fact, if you’ve been bitten by a zombie, but you aren’t a zombie *yet*… don’t mess with me, I know how zombies work. You’re gonna be a zombie. I may as well kill you now while you understand that I’m doing it for a good reason.

Also, let’s say you’re not a zombie, but there are zombies everywhere and I have an automatic weapon. Or a bomb. Something that will kill a lot of zombies all at once. I’m gonna use it. Dude, what are you doing hanging out with a bunch of zombies anyway? You think they don’t know you’re not a zombie? They are gonna bite your shit, then you’ll be a zombie, then I’ll have to kill you anyway. If you are hanging out where zombies hang out and I have a way of blowing up a bunch of zombies, then I’m gonna blow the place up, and you should be hanging out with me.

Also, I should say, if I become a zombie and you kill me, that’s totally fine. Except I’m not gonna be a zombie. Not me. You know why? Because I will kill any zombie who even gets *close*. Including you.

While I’m at it, I need to make another promise. If I ever get bit by a radioactive spider, or if I get nailed with gamma rays or I learn I’m from another planet or something, I’m gonna go ahead and tell you. If suddenly, New York gets visited by a superhero of some sort or another, there’s no point in asking me if I’m him because I will already have told you I’m him.

Seriously, I’ve never had an unexpressed thought, let alone a secret. If I’m a superhero, then this *blog* will change to “SeanTheSuperHeroRants”, because I will totally tell everyone I’m a superhero. The neighbors will be all “Hey, thanks for saving us from that unholy terror last night that attacked the city with a bizarrely specific and unweildy plan for world domination while wearing a costume, because that would have sucked if it had worked…” except I won’t understand because all of my neighbors are first generation immigrants that don’t speak english.

But they will wave and mispronounce my superhero name.

Oh, also. If *you* become a superhero and you don’t want people to know? Don’t tell me. Because I’ll be like, “Dude, come clean. Just tell everyone. Don’t you know what level of girl you could be gettin’ if you let New York know that you’re The Amazing Shoe (or whatever you’re name is)”.

You know what, I have to go back to the zombie thing for a minute because I don’t think I’ve made this clear. If you’re my wife, I will kill you. If you’re my mom, I will shoot you in the goddam head. If you are my nephew, seriously, Sean and Lucas, if you guys become zombies, I will kill you. Kent, if your kids are zombies and you try to stop me, I’ll kill all of you guys.

I’m not gonna get bitten by a zombie. Period.

Now, if Lucy becomes a zombie, I’ll probably let that slide. Baby zombies are probably still cute and they don’t have any teeth. And I’m not sure zombies *age*, necessarily. But they can’t bite. And if they’re yelling for brains, I mean, they can’t really talk or anything…

Okay, baby zombies are fine. Unless they get teeth. If they get teeth and can bite me, that’s a whole nother story.

As for the rest of you, I will not pause, I won’t aim, then recognize you, then look up at you longingly… fuck that. I’m gonna shoot you. And if you aren’t a zombie, if you’re just near a zombie, or if you’re close to being a zombie but aren’t *yet* a zombie and I shoot you, I won’t feel bad. You’re either with the zombies or against the zombies, and you better make a choice.

losing the audience

Tuesday, July 5th, 2005

I know that I’ve probably already lost my audience for this blog, and there’s probably no worse thing to tell me about something that I do, but this is just how it’s worked out. At this point in my life, I still haven’t figured out how to have a private life and a public life, I just haven’t figured out the balance. And this show I’m producing has the slightest ability to be a public experience, and for that I feel like silence is my best option.

We have written a musical that we are really proud of. It’s subversive, it’s tight and it’s meaningful. It’s funny and it’s outrageous. Now, we have to see if we can go through the re-writing process and keep it as all of these things. Initially, we had some ideas about these characters, we wanted to subvert the common thinking about so many of these people, and now we’re having to trade in on some of that.

At the center of our play are characters dealing with ideas of sexual identity and gender. We initially had a wonderful idea, that we would create a character who was fully Christian and unapologetically gay, a man who believes in Jesus but loves men. Such a man not only exists, but most of my gay friends are a thousand times more in tune with their spirituality than I am, I didn’t think we were creating a character that was impossible to believe in.

But now we have a chance for this character to be seen by the world, and there is some concern that the world isn’t ready for him. No-one in the gay community wants spirituality to be defined as “Christ” and no-one in the straight community wants to hear the word “Cock” celebrated. The great blue/red divide has come home to our little play.

So, we’ve found new ways to say these things. Sexuality can be celebrated with tongue in cheek jokes and reminders to use condoms. Spirituality can be celebrated, as long as its non-denominational and, in fact, judea-islamo-christo-tarot-non-specifico spirituality. I don’t think we’re being cowards, I think the larger points of the show will be heard if we keep Jesus and Fellatio out of the same sentence.

I’m just sad because we aren’t giving the world the character that could be there. A completely Christian, completely gay leader of men. George Bush, who happens to love men. Andrew Sullivan. A moral man who doesn’t look at sex as a moral issue, just a physical issue.

Now, a broad comedy that’s going up as part of a downtown festival might not be the place for this character… but if not here, then where? We’ve got a long life ahead of us, we’re gonna make a lot of characters, as actors and writers and producers, and this is a chance for us to be heard. There’s just a part of me that wishes we could be as obnoxious as possible…